


In The End

by Captain_Erika



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Fear, Gen, Injury, flying and falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Erika/pseuds/Captain_Erika
Summary: Iskall and Grian take a trip to the End in search of elytras.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	In The End

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't do anything else for four days while I wrote this.  
> Enjoy!

The End wasn’t really somewhere Iskall loved to visit. Sure, the mystical floating islands and endless darkness certainly was an interesting sight the first few times, but he found the novelty wore off rather quickly. Especially when he stood teetering on a narrow walkway, having to gaze down into the void for every block he placed to extend the bridge. He kept shuffling forward, block after block. The blackness just stared back at him, waiting patiently. He could almost imagine it laughing at him, so certain that eventually he would make a mistake, he’d slip, or he’d cough, jolt in just the wrong way and then it would all be over. The void would love to have a new companion, and it seemed to be ready to wait for eternity for him to join it.

Iskall quietly scoffed at his train of thought. When did he become quite so dramatic? The nothingness could wait as long as it liked, he’d been here plenty of times before, and he’d be back in the future. He was sure that he wasn’t going to fall into the void on this trip.

“This is so boring, Iskall. You really do this every season?”

A stone skittered past Iskall and tumbled off the edge of the bridge. He watched it fall as the pale yellow dot was quickly eaten by the darkness.

“You want to fly, don’t you?” Iskall looked up from his task, secretly grateful to give his eyes a break from void darkness. His mechanical eye was starting to give him a headache and his real one kept conjuring shapes in the black expanse.

Grian was standing behind him on the bridge, with nothing to do other than watch Iskall work. He stopped staring at Iskall at that remark, leaning back and folding his arms. Looking down again to continue his building, Iskall heard a small huff from Grian as the other hermit stared at the tiny end islands in the distance.

“Well, yeah, but we’ve been here for ages! We haven’t seen a single city and the last big island we passed was four hours ago!”

Iskall saw another small stone vanish into the dark.

“And that’s why we want wings, Grian, so we don’t have to do anything like this again. You didn’t have to come with me. And stop kicking the bridge. You might break it.”

“Stay behind and wait for someone to finally start selling elytras? That’s even more boring. And I’m not going to break it, we both know endstone is tougher than my boots.”

Grian’s iron boots were chipped and dented, covered in scratches from the jungle undergrowth he’d been clearing out for the better part of a week before Iskall had invited him to come along on an adventure into the End.

“I can’t believe you still don’t have diamond armour, dude.”

Even if it was a little brittle in some spots, Iskall’s diamond armour was leagues better than the thin iron Grian had scrounged up for their trip. Diamond was difficult to work with, and Iskall was hardly a master smith, but he would never trade the long days he’d spent creating his diamond gear for a few hours of easier work with iron. Diamond was worth the investment. It had saved him from quite a few respawns.

Grian shot a glare in Iskall’s direction, walking further along the bridge to catch up with the progress Iskall had made in the time they’d been talking. “I’ve been busy doing more interesting things.”

That made Iskall chuckle. “Like dying because you aren’t protected well enough, I pay attention to the communicator messages.”

One hand continuing the bridge, Iskall’s other hand drifted to the communicator strapped to his belt. He tapped the message history. “Grian was slain by Vex, Grian was blown up by Creeper, Grian fell from a high place, Grian was slain by Iron Golem, Grian was burnt to a crisp whilst fighting Phantom, Grian—”

“Ok, ok, you don’t have to go through all of them.”

Smirking, Iskall glanced up at the grumpy expression on Grian’s face. Sandy hair and a red sweater really stood out against the black background. Even now, kicking pebbles into an endless void, the idiot wasn’t wearing a chestplate.

The conversation petered out, leaving Iskall’s placing of blocks and Grian’s shuffling boots as the only noises in their little patch of void. Grian couldn’t see any small islands now, no matter how much he strained his eyes. It felt comforting, in a weird way. As though they were in a small, cosy room, rather than being surrounding by inky expanse on all sides. Maybe it was because of the infinity room he’d built last season. He remembered spending hours in that room, planning schemes, drawing and re-drafting plans for Sahara’s design.

Grian’s mind drifted to the time Mumbo had dropped into the blank whiteness unexpectedly, scaring the living daylights out of him. Apparently he’d been in the room for two days, while the rest of the hermits declared him missing and scoured the whole server searching for him. He knew just how easy it was to lose track of time when there was nothing happening around you, which was why he was careful to bring a clock with him on this trip. Of course, the downside of that meant he was acutely aware of every second they spent slowly travelling through the void with absolutely nothing to do while thoughts chased each other about in his head.

He didn’t know how the other hermits put up with doing this every time they travelled to a new world. _Well, I guess getting an elytra this early is better than walking around everywhere for ages_ , he reasoned. This world was only a few weeks old, but taking to the skies in a flurry of explosions was already something he sorely missed. And this time around he wouldn’t have to learn how to use an elytra for the first time, so hopefully he’d have fewer painful deaths by slamming into walls too fast. A small smile crept over his face at the anticipation of being able to fly again. With a little more spring in his step, he kept walking along the thin road above the void.

His excitement caused more pebbles to tumble into the darkness behind him.

~

It must have been another hour, Iskall guessed, before either of them spoke again.

“I’m nearly running out of blocks, Grian. Have you seen any sign of anything?”

“Not if you aren’t counting void.”

Grian was playing with a torch now, igniting it before blowing it out, again and again, just to watch the way the smoke curled away. Sometimes upward, or sideways, sometimes dropping straight down, like it forgot for a moment that gravity should have no hold over it. The End was a strange place.

Iskall grumbled. He was starting to get tired, and here was not the place to misstep or stumble. Xisuma had worked wonders on the rules of their world — even if respawning took time and was painful, it was much better than the alternative. Unfortunately, the End had remained unchanged. Apparently, Xisuma didn’t have the power to meddle with the void — so slipping off his precarious bridge because he got a little tired would have a very permanent consequence.

“Can you take over with the building? I need a bit of a break, I think.”

Grian hummed in agreement, and the bridge was widened a fraction, the pair not wanting to wriggle past each other and risk an accident.

He passed his few remaining blocks of endstone to Grian, who swiftly got to work and set a good pace. The endstone ran out quickly, and Iskall watched as Grian switched to cobblestone slabs.

Iskall paused at the join, his stomach dropping slightly at the thought of walking down the small step. An image of the bridge snapping, of himself plummeting into the void flooded his mind.

He took a shallow breath, trying to quickly shove the thought from his mind, instead fighting to focus on the thin end air in his lungs.

 _Chill out_ , he told himself, _Grian’s an excellent builder. No way would this be unstable. It’ll be fine. Just step on it._

Grian must have noticed the lack of his footfalls, as he looked up from building. He saw Iskall a little way back, one foot hovering in the air over the step where the bridge changed to cobblestone. Grian thought he looked paler than he was before.

“Iskall? You good?”

They weren’t that far apart, but Grian knew the void stole sound with ease. Iskall didn’t react to him, his raised foot twitching ever so slightly.

“Iskall?” Grian called louder this time.

And with that, the spell in Iskall’s head was broken. His head snapped up to towards his friend, and he moved again, walking out onto the cobblestone to catch up.

“Everything okay?” Grian asked again.

“Hmm? Oh, yep. All good.”

It sounded a little forced, Iskall knew. He caught Grian’s subtly raised eyebrow as well as the concern flickering in his eyes.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” Not a lie, there was a definite ache in his arms and shoulders from building at an odd angle for so long.

“Hang on in there, I’m sure we’ll find a city soon. Just gotta keep bridging.” Grian shot Iskall a grin, a nice attempt to raise their spirits. It must have worked, as Iskall found himself smiling back at his friend.

“It’s going to be so nice to fly around again. And to not die every time I fall out of my tree.”

Grian let out a small laugh at that.

“That is exactly why I didn’t want to build anything high up until I’ve got wings.”

Looking past Grian, Iskall was about to reply when a sliver of yellow out in the void cut off his thought.

“Grian, look, it’s an island!”

He bounced forward a few steps, pointing into the darkness in the direction of the island. Grian turned, nodded, and set about curving their path towards it.

A few minutes later, they were considerably closer, and the idea of standing on something more solid than this damn bridge brought some energy back to Iskall. He studied the island as more of it appeared from the fog. It looked quite large, covered in the strange chorus plants that somehow managed to take root in the rough stone. Nothing more interesting than that so far, but he couldn’t see the far edge of it, so it chance of it holding a city was still possible.

Grian kept up a steady pace, and it wasn’t long before he was laying the last few blocks to connect their bridge to the island.

The pair eagerly stepped onto the island, quickly making their way away from the edge.

“Should we take a rest here? We don’t know if there’s going to be a city here.” Grian pointed out, a glimmer of concern for Iskall still lingering on his face.

Iskall stopped for a moment, weighing up the options. Even without a deadly drop to worry about, the End still wasn’t a safe place to hang around. A single look in the wrong direction would send both of them back to the Overworld, and then they would either have to walk back out here or beg another hermit to retrieve their belongings, which would surely come at a price. No, pressing on until they found a city and elytra was their best bet.

“Let’s keep going, I don’t want to get on the wrong side of an enderman.”

Grian knew that was sensible reasoning — even if there were no endermen around them now, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn up. They’d be vulnerable if they stopped to rest, and frankly, Grian wasn’t keen on reliving the experience that taught him just how sharp endermen teeth were.

“Keep going it is then. Let’s get to it.”

They set off, Grian sometimes having to duck and weave through the chorus stems, steadily adding more scratches to his boots and leggings. His jumper snagged on thorns more than once, forcing him to pause to untangle himself. Iskall simply sliced through any stems that blocked his way.

~

After what felt like an entire day to Iskall — despite Grian’s insistence they they’d only been trekking through the dense plants for an hour or two at most — the chorus began to thin out. The plants were still tall enough to form an interlocking canopy, thick enough to block out sunlight, if the light in the End had worked the same way as it did in the Overworld. As it was, Iskall couldn’t see the void above him when he looked up, but he could still see everything else clearly. He was glad for the veil of fake protection separating him from the void, and he felt a bit pathetic about it.

 _No_ , he chastised himself, _I think it’s okay to be a little afraid of something that can permanently kill you_.

Slashing another branch, he was glad that the amount of stems was thinning out, and they seemed to be getting smaller too. Perhaps it meant the forest would end soon. He wondered if Stress would have any success in interbreeding the chorus plants with his crops. Tougher roots for his carrots would not go unnoticed — they were weak to the point he had to take off his boots if he wanted to cross his fields without uprooting the entire crop.

A loud thump behind him wrenched him from his thoughts. He whirled around, sword out and his stance screaming that he was ready to fight should there be anything unexpected.

The only unexpected thing he saw was Grian lying face-first on the rocky ground. Groaning, he pulled himself up as Iskall quickly lowered his blade.

“Are you okay, Grian? What happened?”

“Just tripped on a rock, stupid thing.”

He kicked away the loose stone in annoyance as he rubbed his arm, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed over a scratch from a chorus thorn.

“Yeah, you kinda are.” Iskall chuckled, walking over to the other hermit to make sure he was alright.

“Hey! That’s not what I meant!” Grian said indignantly, glaring at Iskall, who only snorted in return as he pulled Grian to his feet.

“You should look where you’re walking then.” Iskall retorted, “Come on, I think we might be nearly out of this forest.”

Picking thorns out of his sleeve, Grian followed Iskall’s lead. Intensely focused on the ground, ready to dodge any suspicions pebble at a moment’s notice, Grian didn’t notice when Iskall stopped ahead of him.

He walked straight into Iskall, bashing his helmet against Iskall’s diamond shoulder pad. The clang made them both jump.

“Grian! Don’t do that!” Iskall hissed at him. Grian mumbled an apology and looked up to find the reason Iskall had stopped in the first place.

The lack of chorus plants ahead of them already had him hopeful — the prospect of not being pricked again was a nice one, even if he perhaps deserved it for not bothering to find a chestplate to wear.

What made him more excited however, was the signature purpur purple about a hundred blocks away.

“YES! End city at last!” He punched the air, grin wide across his face. His other hand clapped Iskall’s shoulder, expecting the other hermit to celebrate alongside him.

Iskall slapped his hand across Grian’s mouth, desperate to quiet him down.

“Shhh,” he whispered at Grian, “The shulkers might hear you.”

Grian’s eyes widened, remembering the plan they’d come up before they set off had involved sneaking up on the shulkers to pry them out of their shells.

Iskall took his hand back when it was clear Grian had got the message.

“Right, sorry. I forgot we were going to sneak up on them,” He whispered sheepishly, “Do you think they heard me?”

The pair stared at the tower, not seeing any movement.

“I don’t think so,” Iskall murmured, “But let’s be quiet now, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You still have the invisibility potions?”

“Of course.” Grian whispered back, rummaging in his bag for the little bottles. He pulled out three, handing two to Iskall. “A spare in case you need it. I’ve got one too.”

They quickly stashed their armour away in their bags, careful to make it easily accessible should something go wrong. They downed their potions and set off towards the tower in silence.

~

For the first few shulkers, their plan went off without a hitch. _I can’t believe this is actually working_ , thought Grian, as he levered a shell open with his sword, _This is the best plan Iskall’s ever had_.

Having taken care of the shulkers at the entrance, they entered the first room. It was empty, so they walked upstairs. That room was empty too, and the one above that. The fourth floor held another shulker, and their first chest. The mob went down quickly, and the chest only contained a few scraps of iron.

They moved on, finding the next room to be the main tower section, tall and thin with stairs you had to jump between and risk a long fall if you missed a step. Iskall shuddered, glad that his nervousness was hidden from Grian by the invisibility potion. The faint bubbles could only tell Grian where he was standing.

“Do you want to go first, or should I?” Grian’s whispered voice made him jump, but he quickly calmed down again.

“You go, I’ll catch you if you fall.” Iskall knew he’d have more chance of catching Grian if he fell than the other way around, so it made more sense, even if the prospect of falling the whole way back down with no one below to help scared him.

Grian muttered an agreement, and turned to the stairwell. He would have to pull himself across the gap between each and every step if he wanted to get up it safely. Or perhaps he could just jump from step to step? It seemed foolhardy, but it would be faster. The potions wouldn’t last forever.

The first jump seemed to work, so he kept going. The little gasps he heard from behind him let him know that he might be scaring Iskall with his bravado, but the faster they reached the top, the faster he’d have wings again.

Iskall climbed up far more carefully than Grian, if the bubbles he could just make out were any indication. Grian was clearly trying to break a record for silly decisions, and Iskall didn’t want to participate. He stuck with a more reasonable pace.

A loose brick was almost his downfall.

He had grasped the next step, Iskall trying to haul himself up, but the edge of the stair simply crumbled under his grip. For a split second, he was supported by nothing but air.

The air of the End was thin and sharp, and it didn’t like the sudden idea of holding him up. He tipped forward as the brick toppled out of its place on the edge of the step, falling down the tower. Halfway down, it hit another step and shattered, slivers of purple scattering across the narrow room as the crash echoed around the tower.

That moment seemed to stretch out, twist and turn around him, ensnaring him and refusing to let go. His muscles jolted, tensing against his will, instincts flooding his mind, telling him to grab something, anything, to stop him from falling. He was tilting forward, fingers desperately flailing in search of a solid object to stabilise him, but only cutting through air.

And then the moment ended. His weight slammed down onto his feet. They had been hovering just above a previous step the whole time. He wobbled, but his hands darted out to grip the wall, steadying himself. A wave of relief washed over him as his fingers hooked around the bricks in the wall.

 _That was a bit too close_ , was all he could think.

~

Grian had reached the top of the tower when the bang rang out around him. His head snapped to the hole instantly, heartbeat pounding in his ears, eyes rushing around the stairwell searching for the tell-tale bubbles that would let him know Iskall was safe.

Half a second of searching felt far too long, but he narrowed in on one small white fleck floating in the air a few steps below him.

Sparing a quick glance around him to check for any shulkers, he leant down towards where the bubble had been.

“Iskall?” he whispered, fear crowding his voice, “Are you there?”

“I’m fine,” Iskall’s voice wavered, closer than Grian had expected it. He waited for a moment, listening to the near-silence as Iskall made it up the last steps. He felt something shift next to him, and a whisper in his ear.

“A brick on the stairs was loose. Did anything hear us?”

Still shaken up, Iskall hoped they weren’t about to be ambushed by shulkers.

“Don’t think so. Be careful.” Grian muttered back, his pulse calming now that Iskall was safe beside him.

“Let’s go then.”

Grian felt a small tug on his sleeve — he realised Iskall must have grabbed it, so he let himself be guided along.

They ducked through the archway they had been crouched in at the top of the stairwell, walking cautiously out along the walkway. They made it to the arch at the opposite end without further incident. No shulkers in sight. But, something else certainly was. 

Grian saw the ship first, floating beyond the path they stood on.

“Jackpot!” he murmured into the space that he guessed was probably Iskall’s ear. He must have been right, because his friend’s invisible hand dropped his sleeve.

“Make us a bridge then, mighty builder.” Iskall sounded more collected now, and his jokey tone put Grian at ease. He reached into his bag, pulling out some cobblestone.

“I’ve got your back.” A slight breeze carried Iskall’s words to Grian, who was already a few blocks out, not wasting any time now that an elytra was so tantalisingly close. He knew shulkers would be on the ship, but he hoped that the potion would stop them from attacking him. As silently as he could, he kept placing blocks, inching closer to the ship with his prize.

Iskall stayed close to Grian, or at least, close to his best guess of where he was. As he walked along, his foot pressed on a stone on the edge of the bridge. It broke away, hurtling down to the ground, but Iskall managed to catch himself before he followed it. He saw the hunk of rock split when it hit the ground, fragments flying everywhere. But the sound hadn’t reached him, so he supposed that their cover must still be intact.

He kept going, sword already out, ready to bash away any shulker’s spell the second they were spotted.

His eyes scanned the ship as they drew closer. They were approaching the stern from behind, so he couldn’t see if there was any danger on the deck. Gripping his weapon a little tighter, holding his other hand a little closer, Iskall tried to quiet his breathing as much as possible. He could hear Grian doing the same, placing the final few blocks that would connect their bridge to the back of the ship.

“Ready for this?” Iskall whispered at the air in front of him.

“Just climbing up the back of a ship in the End, a hundred blocks above ground when we don’t know what we’ll find on the deck. What could go wrong?”

Iskall rolled his eyes, remembering halfway through that the gesture would be lost on Grian.

“Just be careful, then.” He replied instead.

With that, he felt the rush of air as Grian started his climb with a leap, hands slotting into the gaps between the yellow bricks that made up the back of the ship.

He wanted to scold Grian for being reckless, but it seemed that his friend was almost over the railings at the top already. He settled for scrambling up the side to join him. The bricks jostled a bit as he pulled himself up, but it was easier than climbing the tower. There were more handholds here, where the sharp End breeze had weathered away cracks, and the holes left by the stolen slivers were just the right size for his fingers to grasp.

Gracefully hauling himself over the edge and onto the ship, Iskall was greeted by the sight of a shulker snoozing only few steps away from him. They needed to be careful here. Iskall really didn’t want to get hit at this height with no armour. A drop like that without his boots coated with feather-falling runes would not be a pleasant experience.

Before he could act, the soft swish of a sword being drawn caught his attention, and a moment later the shulker was levered open, the creature inside no match for Grian’s iron blade.

They climbed down the stairs onto the main body of the ship. There were no shulkers there, and nor was anything else that they were after. What did catch Iskall’s attention though, was the state of disrepair the ship was in. He’d explored plenty of end ships before, and this one was the most damaged he had ever seen.

Wanting to take a moment to study it more closely, he gently tugged on Grian’s sleeve, asking him to wait for him.

Iskall examined the mast, fragments falling from it when he brushed his fingers over the surface. The deck was sagging in the middle of the ship, and it bent easily where they walked. He could almost trace their path in the weak floor. He clutched his sword, sure that his knuckles would be tinged with white if he could see them. He made his way to the bow, poking his route with his weapon to test it before taking each step. He leaned out over the edge of the railings, trying to catch a glimpse of the front of the ship.

There was a figurehead there, but not intricate carving of the dragon’s head that he was expecting. Instead, an elegant figurine of a person stood proudly, staring down the void with a stone elytra spread out as if in flight.

Iskall squinted at the purple statuette. It was bizarre, but perhaps this was a normal variation on the ship’s design, one that he simply had never run across before. It was possible, if unlikely.

But ogling the carving wasn’t going to get them wings, so he unhooked his pickaxe from his belt and gracefully chipped away at the base of the delicate decoration, tucking it under his arm to be displayed later in his base, or maybe he’d give it to Grian as a memento of their first trip into the End together.

Deciding on the later, he wandered back over to where he left his companion. After briefly waving his hand around, he felt Grian’s jumper.

“Here. A little souvenir for our trip.” Still whispering, he pressed the item into Grian’s hand.

Grian felt the cold stone in his hand.

“Thanks.” He whispered back, storing the item safely away in his pack. He’d look at it later. Right now, he wanted to get his wings. Iskall’s delay hadn’t been long, but he’d been twitching in place, anticipation driving him mad.

They sneaked through the doorway, into the main body of the ship.

No shulkers. But it didn’t look like the few other ships Grian had seen before. Potions hung on all the walls, transforming the dull purple room into a laboratory that put Scar’s magical village to shame. The strange light of the End bounced around the room, carrying the transparent colours and ricocheting off the glass, creating beams of vibrant colours criss-crossing across the room. Grian had never seen anything so otherworldly. There was nothing else in the room, just bottle of bright liquids covering every wall. He wanted to take them.

“I’ve never seen a ship with so many potions. But, it’s probably best not to touch them. We don’t know what they’ll do.” Iskall’s soft voice rode the colourful light beams around the room. He couldn’t see Grian, but he guessed Grian’s button-pushing antics would probably translate to him wanting to drain each and every bottle simply to see what would happen.

His assumptions were correct, and Grian knew Iskall’s warning was sensible. He quickly drew back his hand, forcing away the urge to grab the closest potion, a brilliant glowing solution that rivalled the red of his jumper. _Iskall’s right_ , he thought, even as a dash of disappointment swelled in his stomach, _We’ve got to focus on getting elytras and then getting out of here_ _._

“Elytra should be just around the corner.” Iskall muttered again, hoping Grian had listened to his warning. The scuffle of feet shuffling back towards him was reassuring. Wiping his slightly sweaty palm on his trousers, he made the first move towards the next room. Iskall peeked around the corner.

Face burning with excitement, Grian followed the subtle sounds of Iskall’s movements.

The room looked normal to Iskall. There were no shulkers inside it either. But, hanging on the far wall was a familiar silvery shape.

“There’s nothing dangerous here.” Iskall breathed out a sigh of relief, his voice grateful to be back at a normal volume. He reached for a small bottle strapped to his belt and took a swig. The milk still tasted fresh. _At least the End_ _kept it cool_ , Iskall thought as he swallowed half the bottle. His arms began to fade choppily into existence, fragments flashing into sight before blinking out again, in the way they always did when a potion’s effects were forcibly stopped. Milk wasn’t the best potion antidote, but it worked in a pinch and it was more practical to transport than a tailored counter potion to every possible effect.

He held the rest of the milk out in invitation to Grian. It would be nice to see each other again, especially if one of them was going to be flying around. The bottle was swiftly taken and a moment later he saw Grian’s hair and jumper cut a bright outline against the purpur background, jumping in and out of sight like a yo-yo, before finally settling down into the visible world.

“Good to see you again, how have you been?” Grian joked, eyes bright as he handed back Iskall’s empty bottle.

A smiled stretched across Iskall’s face as he ignored his friend. The pair slipped their swords away.

The treasure room was plain, especially in comparison to the potion room they’d just left. Bare purple bricks lined the walls, making the item hanging on them stand out even more.

“Elytra! We’ve got wings!” Grian rushed forward, carefully unhooking the shimmering fabric from the wall, spreading it out to see its full glory. He ran his fingertips over the shiny surface. Light bounced off each minuscule scale as he moved it, sending scattered rays around the room. The silver scales were so fine that the wings curved easily, folding like water in his hands. Nothing in the Overworld had this kind of exquisite craftsmanship, he was sure of it.

Iskall helped him to fully stretch out the wings in the small space, both of them diligently inspecting every joint in the sturdy framework, checking every rod for any sign of wear or damage. It was in perfect condition, just like all the potions, and unlike the rest of the ship.

“Well, I know how much you want to fly again, Grian. Why don’t you take these and go find me another one?” Iskall looked at his friend, who seemed ready to burst with excitement.

Not trusting himself to answer, Grian settled for nodding manically at Iskall, who laughed at him.

“Come here then, let’s get this on you then.”

Gathering the material in his arms, Iskall set about strapping the contraption to Grian’s chest and shoulders, making sure the framework lay steady and securely across his chest. He double checked each fastening, unwelcome images of a buckle snapping open and gravity tearing Grian from his flight darting through his mind.

For his part, Grian stood patiently while Iskall flittered around him. _This has got to be done right_ , he thought as he adjusted a strap on his shoulder, pulling it to a more comfortable position, _I’ll only have one shot with this thing if it’s put on wrong the first time._ Once he was back in the Overworld, somewhere safer, he would practise getting it on by himself. He would have time to get used to the unique little quirks all elytras had. But for now, he was extremely glad he had Iskall with him. Help from someone with years of experience was not to be sneezed at.

Finally satisfied, Iskall stepped back. Grian looked ethereal, pinpricks of bright white light dancing over the walls as twirled around, examining Iskall’s work. His arms were up in the air, head twisting from shoulder to shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of his new beautiful contraption. In his excited circling, Iskall head a delighted squeak escape from his friend’s mouth.

Settling back against the wall, he watched Grian for a moment. Iskall’s mouth curled into a smile and his eyes crinkled happily. It was wonderful to see Grian like this. He should have taken him to the End sooner.

The motion of Iskall folding his arms across his chest caught Grian’s attention, pulling him back to reality. He grinned at his friend, happiness beaming in his eyes. Iskall was smiling back at him, clearly amused by his antics. But then Iskall’s eyes shifted away, and Grian caught a glimpse of intrigue in them as the other hermit stared over his shoulder.

Grian turned quickly, his sword half out of its scabbard, not hoping for, but certainly expecting a fight. Iskall’s gaze had been fixed on the corner Grian had neglected to search in the giddy thrill of getting his elytra. It was a dark patch of the room, curving away from them underneath the stairs that lead back up to the potion room.

There was a familiar shimmer in the shadows — a twin of the wings strapped to Grian’s back.

Iskall ducked past him, eager to see if the silver shape hiding in the dark really was a second set of elytra. How lucky would that be? He wouldn’t have to send Grian out into the End on his own, and they could just focus on getting out of here without incident. He reached for the shape. It felt the same under his hand, small scales clacking against each other as the material draped over his hands. Picking it up, he could see that it was, unmistakably. Something like that couldn’t be misidentified. He turned back to Grian.

“I can’t believe it! How rare is this? I’ve never seen a ship with two elytras on it before!” Disbelief echoed in his voice as he held up the elytra, looking it over for any obvious faults. He held it up behind him, trying to get an idea of how it would fit him.

“Iskall! That’s amazing!” Grian tried to bounce over to him, his own wings momentarily forgotten. But, not being at the front of his mind didn’t mean his elytra didn’t react to his sudden jump. It spread out behind him, giving Grian a little more momentum than he’d planned; he barrelled straight past Iskall, landing in a small heap on the floor in the dark corner, half in the nook created by the stairwell. He heard Iskall chuckling behind him.

“Forgot you had one on, did you?”

He groaned in response, sitting up only to bash his head on the underside of the stairs as he crawled out of the cavity.

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” He grumbled sarcastically, “That’s what I get for being happy for you.”

Iskall had gone back to playing model with the new elytra, just enjoying twirling it around while he waited for Grian to pick himself up to come and help inspect it for damage. Grian took a second as he stood up, watching the other hermit attach the equipment to his shoulder.

He pushed himself off the floor, brushing purple brick dust off his trousers. The stuff was everywhere here, as though someone had starting smashing up the ship, leaving enough structure for it to just hold itself together, but anything of substance came crumbling away at the lightest touch. In an attempt to get the dust off his hand, Grian brushed it against the shadowy wall.

He wasn’t expecting the wall to move.

The shulker that had been hidden in the dark, perfectly camouflaged by the purpur, opened its shell. The sudden force knocked Grian off-balance, and he stumbled back, barely catching himself before he could crash into the opposite wall. Iskall looked up at the commotion, happy smile still plastered across his face. That was quickly wiped away when he saw the enemy they’d missed.

The shulker growled at Grian, clearly angry at being disturbed. Before Grian could reach for his sword, and before Iskall could react, the shulker spat out a projectile, aiming straight for Grian. There wasn’t time or room to dodge.

The spinning ball hit him dead in the chest. It hurt a lot more than he thought it would without armour. It knocked him backwards, and he yelped as he slammed into the wall he’d just escaped falling into half a second ago. But he didn’t stay on the floor for long. He could feel the magic of the shulker tugging at his body awkwardly, strange lines of force yanking him upwards. It was like the magic had formed an invisible net around him, scooping him up as he felt the criss-cross of lines cut into his clothes and tear at his skin.

Grian’s cry shot through Iskall’s ears, spurring him to charge at the shulker. It was still open, and his sword easily skewered the soft creature inside.

Threat eliminated, he rushed to Grian, trying briefly to keep him grounded, but the magic was much stronger than him. At least there was a ceiling above them.

Pinned against that ceiling, Grian could feel the magic trying to pull him higher — the steady force started to become more erratic, with harsh tugs as though he was a balloon tangled in a tree with a petulant, impatient child on the other end of the string. The pressure increased with every second.

“Grian? Are you alright?” Iskall’s eyes were filled with concern as he stared upwards. Grian opened his mouth to answer _Yes, I’ll be fine, it’s just a bit uncomfortable_ , when a loud, low, long creaking groan echoed around the small room.

Grian watched the concern lining Iskall’s features morph to horror, just as he felt the bricks above him give a little. Purple dust spiralled lazily past his head.

The pair were silent, gazes locked together, both knowing what would inevitability happen next, both hoping that it wouldn’t.

However, the ceiling did not shatter into pieces.

The floor did.

Grian could only stare as Iskall disappeared, falling with the rubble.

~

Weightless. He was floating, just for a moment, aloft only because gravity hadn’t realised it needed to pull him down.

The smallest step towards Grian, just trying to reassure his friend. That was all it had taken. The brick must have been weak.

His body was trapped in time as thick as oil, but his thoughts rushed through his mind like diving birds. He should have been more careful. Should have checked more diligently. Should have realised, the instant that anything was off, that it might not be safe. His instincts tried to throw his arms out, grab anything to hold him up. There wasn’t any time, and the moment ended, and he was falling.

“ISKALL!”

Rubble sped past him, the roaring wind blocking Grian’s cries from above. Chunks of brick and mortar scraped his skin, and something pulled hard against his throat. The elytra! The one strap he’d tied was the only thing preventing the wind from ripping away his lifeline. If he could just get it on, even a little, he might be able to glide down safely.

Twisting and turning as he tumbled, Iskall desperately clawed at the fabric, searching for a shoulder strap or chest belt, anything to get enough contact with the wings. They billowed out as he fell, trying to take off without him. He was sure the ground must be getting closer. Doubling his efforts, he felt his fingers graze leather. He clamped his hand around the strap, trying to pull it close enough to strap it around his shoulder. He was falling faster and faster, and it was becoming harder and harder to hold onto the elytra. Fighting as hard as he could, Iskall strained against the whistling air. He slipped the strap around his wrist, sliding it roughly over his clothes. He couldn’t have much time left now. The air swirled past him, whipping his hair into his eyes. He yanked the strap, pulling it tight around his upper arm. It hurt, but maybe it would be enough. He threw his other arm out, fist grabbing the opposite side of the rippling wings. The edges of the scales weren’t as smooth as he’d first thought. They cut into his palm, but he didn’t let go. He stretched his arms out as far as he could, trying to stop his body spinning.

It worked. He felt his muscles straining, but his fall became more controlled. He managed to level himself out, the elytra acting more as a parachute than wings. It wasn’t ideal, he was still falling too quickly to shake this off without injury, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t die on impact.

He really, really, hoped so.

~

Grian screamed, thrashing against the magical bonds. All he could focus on was Iskall, rapidly shrinking, getting closer and closer to the hard, unforgiving ground. He had to stop him. Seconds dripped by like hours, with Grian unable to do anything but watch his friend fall. His small silhouette was writhing around, his elytra just looked like a shimmering silver cloak, buffeted by the winds.

Suddenly, Grian dropped away from the ceiling an inch. He inhaled sharply, startled. A fizzing filled his ears, then a loud pop rang out. The shulker’s magic shattered.

Time was back and he was not going to waste it.

He dropped from the ceiling and curved into a dive, hands darting for his rocket pouch. He pulled one out, ripping the ignition cord. The power of the explosion boomed in his bones as it shot him downwards, blasting away the rubble. He flattened his wings to his back, desperate to fall faster. He set off another rocket, and another, and two more after that, straight down. He was sure his voice was still screaming. He’d never dived so fast, never needed to dive so fast. A tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it would be okay, that even the worst outcome would only end with Iskall waking up in his home. He knew that, but if he could spare his friend from a painful respawn, he would try as hard as he could. Maybe he could still reach Iskall in time.

But he didn’t need to. Shooting towards him, Grian watched as Iskall managed to slow himself in a makeshift manner. They were both still approaching the ground quickly, but not at deadly speeds anymore. He wouldn’t be any help to Iskall now, so Grian flared his wings out, gliding safely to the ground.

Iskall hit the floor at the same time as Grian, with considerably less grace. He tried to roll, but he smacked the stone shoulder-first and his body crumpled in on itself. His elytra settled over him, obscuring his vision.

Grian landed on his feet, stumbling a few steps forward. As soon as he was steady, he sprinted over to where Iskall lay on the cold ground. Sliding on his knees the last few paces, not caring about the bruising it would surely cause later, he threw the elytra off his friend, tossing it to Iskall’s far side. Frantically, Grian pulled Iskall up. His brown hair was a mess, his clothes torn, arms and face covered in scratches from the debris. He was alive. Iskall groaned, rolling his head towards Grian.

“That was quite some fall.” His voice was weak, and the jovial tone he’d been going for broke halfway through.

Grian practically leapt at him, arms pulling him close into a tight hug. He felt Grian’s head on his shoulder.

“You scared me so much, Iskall,” Grian’s voice was next to his ear, just as shaky. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Iskall didn’t reply. He just hugged Grian back, feeling his friend’s erratic heartbeat. For a minute, they stayed curled up on the stone, shaking together, just taking a moment to know that Iskall was safe.

Grian was the first to pull back, clamping his hands on Iskall’s shoulders. Iskall immediately gasped, and he dropped back down, his body unable to cope with the pressure from Grian’s grasp. The life-saving adrenaline was draining from his system, being quickly replaced by a sharp pain in his left shoulder.

Grian almost shrieked again as Iskall almost flopped to the floor.

“Iskall!” He scrambled over, another wave of fear cresting in his mind. But before he panicked more, Iskall pulled himself up again.

“I’m okay, Grian. I think I landed on my shoulder, and it just hurts a bit is all.” That was true, even if saying it had mostly been to calm Grian down. He looked paler than Iskall felt. He caught a small nod, and then Grian picked him up, helping him to his feet. Grian still fussed over him, brushing purple dust from his clothes. Iskall chuckled at him, returning the favour.

The calming atmosphere didn’t last long, however. The spinning ball of another shulker shot between them, and they broke apart, barely avoiding the hit.

“What the—” A shulker’s growl cut off Grian’s shocked words. Both of them turned to look in its direction. The attack had come from the tower. They’d only a few dozen blocks away. And Iskall could almost mistake the tower for being alive. His breath caught in his throat. The whole building was covered in shulkers. Every purple surface was rising and falling, spitting white bullets towards them. It seemed they’d caused quite a commotion.

“I’m not dealing with that today. Help me get this thing on so we can get out of here!” Iskall said, already wrestling with his elytra.

That snapped Grian out of his horrified staring, and he quickly started helping. It was near the fastest he’d ever moved, dancing around to avoid the projectiles whizzing around them. It took the pair fifteen seconds to attach the five main straps to Iskall’s chest and shoulders. It was tight and uncomfortable, pressure making the pain spike, but it would have to do.

“That’s enough, let’s go!” He called out. The void above them was becoming obscured with the little bullets. Grian met his eyes, nodding in agreement. He pressed a few rockets into Iskall’s hand, and they both took off, weaving in and out. Grian pulled some particularly fancy aerobatics that would have worried Iskall if he hadn’t known how much time Grian had spent practising his elaborate stunts in the old world. They raced away from the city, soaring over the chorus forest.

They outpaced their attackers easily, so Iskall followed Grian’s lead when his friend calmed his frantic flight to a gentle glide. The rough take-off had definitely hurt Iskall’s shoulder, and now that the immediate danger lay behind them, it was certainly making itself known. Having his whole body weight pulling down on it only made the pain grow. His movements in the air were far sloppier than Grian, who was gracefully fluttering about a small distance ahead, using his nervous energy to dive in and out of the top layers of the dense chorus plants.

Iskall grit his teeth, determined to block out the pain and just make it home. The End air was too thin and too cold. He wanted to be back in the warm jungle, happily building his giant tree, arguing with villagers and fending off pranks. When he got back, he’d be able to soar up to the top of his tree and see the sun rise up over the jungle, watch the light scatter through the leaves as the first sunbeams of a new day pierced the canopy. He held the image in his mind’s eye as his hands crawled into his sleeves, trying to protect his fingers from the biting wind.

Grian wanted to land and check Iskall’s elytra properly. He kept glancing back, checking that he was still following. His dives into the top of the canopy had only revealed that the undergrowth was far too thick for them to reach the ground safely, especially if Iskall’s wobbly flight was anything to go by. Luckily, the hours they had spent walking through the forest wouldn’t be more than a few minutes by elytra. It would be easy for them to make it to the bridge. They could stop there, and then Grian would carry Iskall back it he had to. _Yeah_ , he thought, _That’s the plan._ His mind a little more settled, he continued on his way, still looking back at his friend every few seconds.

~

Iskall was extremely glad when the purple beneath him gave way to bare yellow endstone. He was even more glad when that was abruptly cut off by empty blackness. A sliver of grey stretched over the darkness. He’d never been so happy to see cobblestone. He looked back up at Grian, who had clearly been waiting to catch his eye. He made a ‘ _let’s land’_ gesture, and Iskall nodded. They both began a slow descent, neither of them wanting a repeat experience of the last landing they’d had. They flew single-file, staying over the bridge as they flew out into the void.

Their landing was gradual enough that the elytras carried them out to the point where the bridge changed from cobblestone to the pale endstone that Iskall had built with. He watched Grian touch down ahead of him, elegantly as ever. He followed suit, landing a few dozen blocks behind, with only the slightest of stumbles.

The wings settled down against his back as he rubbed his forehead. This expedition had been far more dramatic than he’d expected. He took a second to loosen the strap on his injured shoulder. It seemed to work, the pain fading a little in response. A sigh of small relief slipped from his mouth. Looking back at Grian, who seemed to be fiddling with something in his bag, Iskall took a step forward, intending to catch up with his friend.

It was the wrong step to take.

His foot came down on a pale pebble, one of the stones that Grian had kicked loose out of boredom hours ago. His foot slide awkwardly to the side, and he lurched forward in an attempt to catch himself, to not fall off the edge of the bridge. The strange manoeuvre amplified the pain he’d just tried to lessen, as though the flounder had opened a channel for it to run down his entire left side.

Luckily, the blunder worked. He managed to right himself and spent a second frozen in place, feeling sweat forming on his arms from the near miss. After what they’d just been through, he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of another plummet. He didn’t want to fight against the prospect of permanent death if he fell into the void. Grian was going to get a talking-to about controlling his boredom.

Taking a deep breath to calm his now jittering nerves, he walked forwards again.

One step.

Everything was fine. Grian looked to have found whatever he’d been searching for in his bag. Iskall saw him pull out another pack of rockets. He must have used up his last one in their escape. He held something purple in his other hand. 

In the moment before he lifted his foot again, Iskall felt the pounding in his chest calm down. He was fine. He was okay.

The second step was his second mistake.

Heel-first, his foot struck the stone.

The creak was instant. He wanted to look down. Had a joint popped in his foot?

He went to move his head, to see what had made the sound.

Even if he had a cat’s reflexes, he wouldn’t have been fast enough.

The bridge snapped.

~

Grian was re-organising his tool belt. It didn’t hold many rockets in one pouch, a design flaw he’d really have to fix when they got back. _Need to stop putting that off,_ he had thought, _It would make this thing so much more useful._ He had been fumbling around in his bag, looking for the rockets to refill his pockets when his fingers brushed something cold. Face screwing up in confusion, he pulled out the mystery object.

 _Oh_ , he thought, recognising it. The little figurine that Iskall had given him looked up at him, stretching out as if it wanted to fly away on its tiny stone wings.

He was about to stuff it back in his bag now that his curiosity was satisfied, but something caught his eye. There were small indents around the base of the figure, and they looked almost like… words? He squinted, trying to make sense of them. The markings were faded and chipped, but still legible. They seemed to be old runes. He traced his finger over them, translating them in his head. _Do not take more_ _from here_ _than what you should have received._ What was that supposed to mean?

A noise distracted him. It was an unexpected sound in the middle of the void, a creaking, snapping, shattering sound, like slabs of stone grinding against each other. It echoed around him, bouncing off nothing, being swallowed by the damping effect of the void.

Strange inscription forgotten, he glanced around for the source—nothing ahead, and obviously nothing to the sides. He turned to look behind him, and there was nothing there either. Nothing at all.

Nothing, exactly where the bridge and Iskall should have been.

His mouth and eyes shot open. He sprinted to the new edge. The break was rough, with sharp shards poking out in all directions. And it was thin. He recognised the divots in the stone. They matched his beat-up iron boots. The blood dropped from his face, and a beep from his communicator went ignored.

He stared into the void and he could see nothing.

~

His second terrifying fall in so many minutes.

The wind was roaring past him again, but there was no debris this time to batter him. The wind could do that all on its own. It felt more vicious down here than above the island, sharp enough scratch his face without the need for flying rubble. He wasn’t sure he even breathing, too scared to do anything but rely on his instincts. They’d had years of practise. One hand was already activating his elytra, the other having reached for his rockets the instant the bridge had crumbled beneath him. As soon as the rocket was out, he yanked the ignition cord. There wasn’t any spare time down here.

But he was still moving quickly. Still falling down. The rocket hadn’t changed a thing. His brain raced frantically as the air become colder and colder. What was wrong? Why hadn’t that worked? Each second he felt more blood pounding in his ears, more sweat pouring down his back. He twisted in the air, looking over his shoulder, the pain forgotten.

The strap! It was too loose for his wings to activate, that must be it! The wind became even harsher, scratches turning to cuts. He wrestled with the strap, pulling it with all his strength to force the buckle to tighten. It snapped closed.

He let off another rocket, his arms and face bleeding as the wind sliced deeper.

The rocket fizzled out in his hands. Swearing, he grabbed another as blood starting to drip across his eyes, blocking his vision.

Third cord, out.

Explosion.

And he wasn’t suddenly soaring up, away from this horror and towards his friend, his home, his ideas and plans and aspirations. He wasn’t zooming out of the void, back to Grian to be hugged and chastised, because of course he should have been more careful, he should always be more careful, but he had never paid attention because it had never really mattered, Xisuma had changed the world and he’d always come back and it would take a little time but they’d always be able to laugh about it because, hey, there weren’t any real consequences. He knew it wasn’t like that now.

Because through the red-speckled haze that was his eyesight, between the colourful dancing shapes in the endless blackness of the void that must have come to play around in his blood-loss addled brain, he saw the reason he’d never see the sunlight again.

The elytra flapped uselessly behind him. The elytra he’d pulled on manically in his first fall. The elytra he’d never had the chance to examine, because he was falling, and then he was fleeing, and now he was falling again. The strange, suspicious, second elytra he’d found on a odd type of ship he’d never seen before, despite the days he’d spent in the End over his years.

The wings were torn.

Perhaps it had only been a small fault before he’d put it on. He would have seen a tear that big. One of the wings was almost in two pieces, the split running from his shoulder right down to the tip, with only a few threads holding it together. The other was no better, with two large gashes flapping in the deafening howl of the wind.

There was no one here to rescue him, and he couldn’t save himself.

In the end, he couldn’t do anything.

****Iskall85 fell out of the world** **


End file.
